


Thyme

by Daase



Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Canute unwraps Thorfinn's bandages and proceeds to wash him, Happens between Thorkell joining the main cast and their arrival at Gainsborough, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daase/pseuds/Daase
Summary: It started small when they had been forced to huddle for warmth in the wagon. Back then Canute had reciprocated the stray touches without comment and let his guilt and confessions hail down on Willibald later.But now there was nothing to confess. Canute was already on the path of sin. And no amount of indulging himself in Thorfinn would doom him any more than killing his own father would.
Relationships: Canute/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 209





	Thyme

Darkness furled at the edges of the horizon as the day crept to a close. Crows cawed from the snow-topped fir trees so much so it rang in Canute's ears as he snuck from his tent. 

Thorkell's merry men could be heard loudly from their fires but the sound died as he stepped further away from camp. Each step was heavier than the last, crunching loudly into the white beneath him. 

It would take them over a week until they’d arrive at Gainsborough. The long marches hadn’t bothered him on horseback– and Canute could easily endure Thorkell’s blabbering to his vice commander, Asgeir. Canute’s bodyguard, on the other hand, seemed a little worse for wear. Thorfinn had stumbled behind him and Canute could hear his quiet groans as he walked.

It frustrated Canute. Thorfinn was a stubborn oaf and had spat onto the ground when he was offered a seat in the sled next to Bjorn. "I can walk," he sneered.

And walk he did.

Canute had waited for the camp to settle down before he slipped away. Luckily with Thorkell in the camp, there was little reason to have men stationed around his tent anymore.

Canute should’ve been overjoyed to finally have a semblance of privacy for the first time in his life. In fact, it should’ve been a relief. But after a while, it became too much. His thoughts whirled messily before Ragnar’s pale hands came flashing across his mind. He tried to push the memory down, blink back the humid film that was starting to fog his vision. Canute's breath quickened. He needed to search for a distraction. 

In his left hand, he held a leather flask. Asgeir had reluctantly handed it to him when he requested it from their supplies earlier. There was honestly little Asgeir could do once the prince himself asked for it.

Canute's breath rose in vapors from his lips as his walking pace picked up. He turned to the left before continuing straight between the narrow birch trees where he spotted Thorfinn. It didn’t surprise him in the least to see Thorfinn curled up in his worn blanket, nestled amongst the foliage to keep him from the wind. The snow was sloppily scraped away to ensure a dry place to sleep.

Thorfinn’s keen senses took note of Canute before he had even approached. Yet, he remained still when he spotted Canute.

“What do you want?” He jeered.

Canute gaze steeled as he stepped closer. “To collect you,” he stated dryly as he crouched down in front of him and brought out his flask.

Thorfinn edged away with a snarl only to grunt in pain. At first, Canute thought the grunt was due to his broken arm, but Thorfinn’s shallow breathing made it clear that it came from his busted ribs. Quietly, Canute popped the cork of the bottle and held it in front of Thorfinn.

“Drink this and come with me.”

Thorfinn gave a defiant glare but reached out for the bottle. He brought it to his nose and gave it a quick whiff. 

“What are you doing?” Canute asked indignantly.

Thorfinn scoffed, “It’s not alcohol nor vinegar. So what good will this do me, prince?” Canute barely registered the glint in Thorfinn’s eye before the boy threatened to spill the bottle's contents.

Canute snatched Thorfinn’s icy wrist as a few drops dripped onto the forest floor. Luckily the contents of the flask were spared. Thorfinn jerked in surprise from Canute’s sudden touch before letting out a loud, hiss.

Frustration bubbled under Canute's skin as he struggled to keep his temper. “Drink it and come with me.” He repeated the words as if they were an order rather than an offering. Thorfinn glowered, annoyed. Canute should have known better. Thorfinn hated being ordered around. Though he knew how to manipulate Thorfinn into favorable moods, Canute had gone to great lengths to procure the flask. The lack of cooperation left Canute rather short. 

Why did he even bother? He thought bitterly. Canute knew why, and the shame welled up in him. Sucking in a deep breath, he mirrored Thorfinn’s stubborn glare. This was for the oaf’s own good. Moments pased until eventually, Canute felt Thorfinn relax as he caved. 

Canute released the boys’ wrist and watched as Thorfinn brought the flask to his chapped lips.

“You’ve been acting weird. It’s creepy.” Thorfinn muttered as he took his first sip. 

Thorfinn’s eyes lit up and Canute couldn’t help but scoff once Thorfinn greedily began to devour the contents of the flask.

“I would savor it if I were you. We have a limited supply of honey 'till we reach Gainsborough.” He stated bluntly. His rebuke did little and Thorfinn sucked down a few more greedy gulps before smacking his lips.

“How did you get this?” he asked, Canute blinked dumbly at the display.

“Thorkell’s forces came more prepared than us, they brought honey for situations like this.” Canute pointed at Thorfinn’s chest, and the other boy raised a brow. “Huh? My ribs? What the hell will honey do?”

The edges of Canute's mouth twitched before he replied in an amused tone, “To help halt the buildup of pus in there. If just by a little bit.” Thorfinn looked down himself, then to the prince. His look of utter confusion was almost… endearing.

Thorfinn tsked, “Are you stupid? There is no hole...” His delivery was like that of a child. And Canute had to suppress a laugh as he shook his head. 

“Why do you think we set bones Thorfinn? It is not merely to stop the limb from growing crooked. The buildup of pus from the break within can kill a man.”

Thorfinn squinted as he struggled to get to his feet, “Why the hell would a prince know something like that?” 

Canute let out a small sigh as he rose himself. He wasn’t going to waste their time explaining the point of books to his illiterate bodyguard. 

He reached for the flask, but Thorfinn didn’t appear willing to part with it, “You said I should drink it. So I am.” Thorfinn paused, “Where are we going anyway?” he muttered gruffly.

“Bring your blanket.” Was all Canute said as he started walking back from whence he came. Disgruntled, Thorfinn followed.  
They didn’t speak a word until they stood outside the entryway of Canute’s tent.

“Asgeir told me Thorkell’s band lost three men to the cold the other night. So from now on, you’ll be sleeping in my tent – as my bodyguard.” Canute steeled himself, prepared to see a scowl or perhaps a look of disgust. But the shorter boy was looking down, his face unreadable as he climbed into the tent before Canute could get another word in. 

When Canute followed after Thorfinn, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the boy situate himself on his sleeping furs. Canute honestly didn’t mind. After all, he had felt how icy Thorfinn's wrist had been. 

“Take off your boots,” Canute muttered, pointing to Thorfinn’s feet. Thorfinn frowned at him before beginning to untie his boot with his only healthy hand. His face contorting into a grimace of discomfort when he tried to pull them off. Quick to assist him, Canute leaned forward. Thorfinn jerked as if to kick Canute away from him. 

“Piss off. I can do it myself.” He hissed as dry patches of mud fell off the soles of his weathered shoes from his ceaseless kicking. This did little to deter Canute. Using his body weight, he held Thorfinn’s leg still and grabbed the offending boot before tugging it off in one fell swoop.  
The sock underneath appeared wet and full of holes and Canute scrunched up his nose and released the leg afraid of any possible offending odor that may follow. Only Thorfinn's regular musk filled the tent. It was pleasant. Canute's pulse quickened, embarrassed that he noted the scent of Thorfinn in the first place he began to work on the other boot. For some reason, Thorfinn had stopped kicking.

The other boot came off without trouble, and Canute placed it by the entryway of the tent. He heard Thorfinn move about behind him. 

“Why do you have so many?” Thorfinn asked while pointing to four leather bottles next to the fur rolls. A strange sort of calm washed over the taller boy as a semblance of normal conversation started to form. “There’s boiled water in them, they’re warm.” Canute said. Thorfinn scrunched up his nose, “I know that, but we pass them around out there to dry our clothes, why does a small guy like you need four of them. Do you need them to dry your bed after wetting it?” The absurdity of his comment nearly made Canute laugh.

“They are to heat the furs, you fool,” Canute muttered as he grabbed one and tossed it into Thorfinn’s lap. Thorfinn quickly wrapped the bottle in his worn blanket and held his cold hand against it. Just for how long had Thorfinn been freezing?

Little did it matter now. Canute would remedy that. Even if just by a little bit. Thorfinn was another warrior scorned by god and just like Bjorn, there was no way for Thorfinn to overcome his lofty trials. The steps to create an earthly paradise would start small, and he would begin with Thorfinn. 

“Did Thorkell’s man set your arm today?” Canute asked as he grabbed a bowl and washcloth and popped the cork of one of the leather bottles to pour the hot water into the bowl, it was very hot, but not scalding.

“Asgeir? The asshole was rough on purpose.” Thorfinn complained as he watched Canute add thyme to the bowl, “What are you doing? Making soup? Without a fireplace?” 

Thorfinn’s curiosity humored Canute, so he decided to keep him in the dark for a while longer before he continued the conversation. “You did gouge out the eye of his commander, Thorfinn. I thought it wise not to let him know who the honey was for when I requested it. Asgeir seems to hold a grudge against you.” 

Thorfinn leaned back onto the furs with the heated flask nestled in his lap. Canute noted how his shoulders untensed slowly from the corner of his eye as he dipped the washcloth into the bowl. The soft scent of thyme spread in the little tent as he stirred the cloth around. 

A comfortable silence lingered until Thorfinn broke it.

“And two of his fingers.” 

Canute’s head perked up. Was Thorfinn trying to impress him with that? It was nothing but pointless violence. But he would be lying if he didn’t think it showed great promise in Thorfinn considering what a monster Thorkell was. Perhaps, if he could keep Askeladd as his vassal he could by extension keep Thorfinn employed and-  
Well, that all depended on him surviving his squabble with his father once they’d reach Gainsborough next week. For all he knew he could be dead by then. 

Canute sighed. He tried to still his mind by fixating on his hands and the washcloth submerged by the thyme-scented water before him. He could’ve died a few weeks ago as well if his body had reacted to Thorkell’s punch and flinched. At this rate, a thick cloak of apathy had rolled over him. Either he would die in his rebellion against the heavenly father or be victorious. Canute had nothing to lose at this rate.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Thorfinn’s voice was low, almost inaudible to Canute as the prince wrung the washcloth into the steaming bowl before him. 

Canute ignored his question. Pretending he hadn't heard him, the mention of Askeladd left heavy air in the tent, of all things why did Thorfinn have to bring that up? Canute lifted his eyes and gave him a tired look. Thorfinn sat stiffly on his furs, breathing unevenly in a vain attempt to spare himself the pain from his broken ribs.

“Pardon?” Canute relented.

Thorfinn frowned. “You heard me. He admitted to killing Ragnar so why did you let him live?” he sneered.

Canute sighed once more, “Askeladd is of more use to me alive than dead.” Deep down, somewhere he felt a small voice desperately screaming for the man’s death. But Canute wasn’t in a situation where he had the luxury to indulge in such fantasies. Not with his father plotting against him. Besides, where would Thorfinn go if he had? Canute would’ve lost another useful pawn in his scheme if he had done so.  
A pawn.. something inside him recoiled, no Thorfinn wasn’t a pawn.. 

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes. “I’ll kill him when we get to Gainsborough. So don’t get any ideas, he is mine.”

The prince parted his lips only to shut them again. Canute faintly recalled the conversation between Thorfinn and Askeladd several months ago back in Wales when they were first introduced. He remembered wondering why someone would want a duel of all things as payment for being his bodyguard. The memory summoned the sensation of Ragnar’s soothing back and Canute swiftly shoved the memory into a trunk at the back of his mind. He wouldn’t falter. Not in front of Thorfinn. Not in front of god. No one.

“Your duel is your reward for guarding me, yes?” Canute got no response. Thorfinn’s steely eyes told him all he needed to know.  
“You will need a witness; I’ll oversee the duel.” Canute declared.  
His words came out sterner than he would’ve liked. He had no interest in either of them dying. Canute needed Askeladd’s council to maneuver his father just as much as he needed Thorfinn for protection, despite his.... current state. With Thorkell joining their ranks he wasn’t really in desperate need of a bodyguard anymore. Yet Canute still found himself requesting Thorfinn’s constant presence – perhaps because the boy had no allegiance nor interest in politics aside from killing his target.

“I don’t care what you do. Just stay out of my way.” Thorfinn muttered in a low voice as he diverted his gaze.

Canute’s lips twitched into a small smirk. He knew Thorfinn didn’t mind his presence. Or at least that’s what Canute told himself as he put the washcloth back into the bowl of water before reaching for Thorfinn’s sling.

Thorfinn recoiled, his eyes wide with shock and what Canute could only assume to be disgust. Canute, however, didn’t let that deter him. He held onto Thorfinn’s good shoulder while he untied the knot of the sling behind the shorter boy’s neck. Thorfinn let out a loud hiss through gritted teeth while Canute gently loosened the fabric.

“What the hell are you doing?” Thorfinn breathed as he tensed. This wouldn’t do.

“We have been on the road for two weeks and you have neither washed nor changed your bandages,” Canute muttered, reaching for the hem of Thorfinn’s tunic.

Thorfinn eyed him in horror.

“I can do that myself. Do not touch me.” Thorfinn spat as his only good hand tried to cease Canute’s from pulling up his shirt. Canute huffed.

“Sure you can Thorfinn, now let go.”

Thorfinn’s hand squeezed Canute’s in warning as he glowered at him. Canute glared with the same intensity. They remained like this until Thorfinn released his hand, averting his gaze in embarrassment.

Canute raised his left hand to support Thorfinn’s broken right arm while he gently lifted the tunic halfway and over his head. Softly, he draped the rest of the tunic over the broken arm, careful not to touch it. Thorfinn’s bandages around his chest were a yellow and ghastly sight. It only got worse when Canute put aside Thorfinn’s shirt and a sour smell wafted into his face. He held his breath.

It was foul and Canute couldn't understand how someone could care so little about themselves. But when he thought about it, who even cared for Thorfinn? 

That thought lingered on his mind as his fingers wandered over Thorfinn’s bandages. Not once had Canute seen the men share their food with Thorfinn. Nor offer him shelter during the many months he had been in his service. Not even Askeladd appeared to care for him or treat him as a member of the crew outside of giving orders and odd jobs. Heck, Thorfinn always seemed to eat alone. As his fingers traveled over Thorfinn's ribs, he became keenly aware of the level of neglect Thorfinn endured. 

Thorfinn sucked in a breath. Their proximity caused a foreign heat to pool at the nape of Canute’s neck. The scent of Thorfinn’s skin was overpowering. Canute darted his eyes, unable to look at Thorfinn. He fumbled until he finally found the end of the strip of the bandage at Thorfinn’s back. It had been clumsily knotted and shifted thanks to Thorfinn’s movements. To untie it, Canute wrapped his arms around the boy and worked on it blindly. Thorfinn’s breath ghosted against his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Did Thorfinn have any loved ones? Or was he adrift alone just like himself? Canute wondered as the knot finally came loose. Canute slowly unwrapped the yellow, soiled fabric. When his nails accidentally grazed Thorfinn's side, he stirred. 

In a low murmur, Thorfinn spoke again, “Isn’t this kind of thing beneath a royal.”

It was. Canute had never touched anyone this way before. And that in of itself left him with unease as more and more of Thorfinn’s scarred skin revealed itself to him.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. If you are to guard me then it’s in my own best interest that you heal properly.” He stated as clear as he could, hoping he could convince himself in the process. A vain attempt really, for Canute had to swallow thickly as the last strip of linen wrap was removed.

Thorfinn’s skin stretched over taut bodies of muscle. His chest rose and fell to catch shallow breaths. Glancing over Thorfinn's chest, he had not quite yet developed the bulk of a man and was still thin enough to have his ribs show when he inhaled. The scars and deep lines that danced across his flesh told of years of battlefield experience. Canute felt a pulse rise as he tried not to linger on the nipples visible to him; an uncharacteristically soft pink which seemed out of place, and thereby intimate to look at. A big part of Canute wondered if something was ruefully wrong with him to think this as he watched Thorfinn’s naked skin react to the cold air in the tent. 

His sudden pause was not lost on Thorfinn.

“Since when did you stop being so...cautious?” Thorfinn breathed, his eyes following Canute’s hands as they returned to the steaming bowl to wring the cloth one last time. 

Canute blinked, surprised to hear Thorfinn reference their squabble in the wagon. He hadn’t expected someone like him to even remember nor care for his reasoning behind not speaking to the Welsh. After all that had transpired, a part of him wanted to bare his chest for Thorfinn. But such emotions were of no use anymore, something else called him.

The cloth was still warm to the touch and the strong scent of thyme wafted in their faces as he placed a supporting hand on the top of Thorfinn’s unruly hair. Thorfinn’s confused eyes darted to him in protest. But before he could speak a single word Canute started scrubbing Thorfinn’s face with the cloth. “O-oi!” he yelled, as he tried to pry Canute off with his left hand. 

“Be still.” Canute sneered as he rubbed his way down the jawline and behind Thorfinn’s ears muttering a quiet, “You reek.” he dipped the cloth back into the bowl clumsily. This time not wringing it as he brought it back to Thorfinn’s neck. A jolt came from Thorfinn as the water and small bits of thyme leaked down his chest. Canute felt the other boy tremble ever so slightly as he softly rubbed the cloth further down his collarbone. 

“Y-you bastard.” Thorfinn breathed, but Canute didn’t sense any venom behind the words.

“Language, Thorfinn.”

Thorfinn’s shallow breathing picked up the further down he went. Canute couldn’t help but notice the mottled shade of pink that crept up Thorfinn’s chest with every swipe. The skin rose in goosebumps, even around scar tissue. That for some reason fascinated Canute. 

He removed his hand from the top of Thorfinn’s head and moved it to support his broken arm. Thorfinn stared sharply as Canute gently raised his arm to the best of his ability. When it finally dawned on Thorfinn what Canute was about to do his eyes widened. 

“What the hell stop-“ His words were cut off as Canute began to scrub the pit of his arm and down his sides. Canute had to stifle a laugh as the absurdity of the situation dawned on him. Here he was, the prince of Denmark, scrubbing the filthy pits of his own bodyguard. Thorfinn looked like he was ready to hiss at him.

“What’s so funny?” He blurted.

As Canute finished, he lowered the arm and Thorfinn let out a sharp groan. To remedy it, Canute grabbed hold of the flask with honey water and handed it to him. “Your temper. Here, drink the rest of this.” Thorfinn grabbed the flask and Canute submerged the cloth in the bowl yet again before he wrung it. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Thorfinn muttered sourly before he took another swig of the flask. Canute crawled behind him on his knees so he could get better access to Thorfinn’s back. When he pressed the warm cloth against his spine, he felt a long, drawn-out, quiet sigh escape Thorfinn. And that was when it dawned on Canute that despite his insufferable protesting, Thorfinn enjoyed this. 

He resumed his scrubbing in circles down Thorfinn’s back, until he found Thorfinn sufficiently clean. Sure, Thorfinn’s hair deserved some washing, but the grime on his upper body and his bandages took precedence. 

“That should do it,” He muttered as he gathered the bandages strewn about the fur and put them in the bowl of thyme and hot water to soak. Just in case they couldn’t request new ones in the morning and would have to boil them. 

Thorfinn craned his head slightly and eyed him curiously as Canute placed the bowl closer to the entry of the tent by their boots. What was on his mind Canute did not know, but he felt his eyes on him as he undid the belt over his tunic.

“Why are you doing that-“Thorfinn uttered, Canute raised a brow at him. 

“I don’t plan on sleeping with a belt around my middle, do you?” Thorfinn frowned before he looked away.

There was little to be said about that, Canute thought. He folded his belt and placed it neatly on top of his cape and made his way over to Thorfinn. He gave Canute a wary look when he suddenly hovered over him and slid a hand around his middle and onto his now cold, wet back. The proximity and Thorfinn’s shallow breaths against his neck roused something in Canute. He was quick to explain himself when Thorfinn who appeared visibly stunned, suddenly parted his lips. “I’m helping you lay down, calm yourself.”  
Gently he held him close as he leaned them down, pausing midway a few times for Thorfinn to gather his senses as he groaned in his grip. Canute didn’t have the same arm strength as Thorfinn, but he laid Thorfinn down as softly as he could while beads of sweat gathered at Thorfinn’s temples. 

When Thorfinn laid fully on his back Canute broke the hold and sat up slowly, Thorfinn looked up at him now, his eyes half-lidded and framed by Canute’s locks. Canute didn’t even register that he had paused before Thorfinn spoke.

“Get any closer, and I’ll cut you,” Thorfinn warned, but Canute couldn’t get much closer than he already was. He felt the sheath of Thorfinn’s dagger clearly against his pelvis, and Thorfinn’s hand had yet to move to it. 

It had to be a bluff.

Canute reached for the sheepskin and draped it over them as he settled his body against Thorfinn’s healthy arm. He felt the latter tense up through his tunic. By god, Thorfinn's pulse felt like a galloping horse before he sucked in a shaky breath. 

“Then do it. I doubt Askeladd will grant you that duel, however.” Canute whispered against Thorfinn’s beading temple.

Thorfinn’s head turned beneath Canute's chin. Creeping hot vapor spread over his neck as Thorfinn stumbled to say, "Are you stupid-" 

“I felt you. That time you snuck through my window at that mercian village. You were lucky Ragnar didn’t catch you.” 

Thorfinn’s reaction to his words could be felt immediately. The boy stiffened. And Canute’s own body became acutely aware of the cold tip of Thorfinn’s nose as it brushed against his Adam’s apple. 

“I didn’t-“ Thorfinn breathed, but there was little to deny. Canute had known for a while now; it had started small when they had been forced to huddle for warmth in the wagon. Back then he had reciprocated the stray touches without comment and let his guilt and confessions hail down on his priest Willibald later. 

But now there was nothing to confess. Canute was already on the path of sin. And no amount of indulging himself in Thorfinn would doom him any more than killing his own father would.

“You’re a liar,” Canute whispered as he smoothed Thorfinn’s tousled bangs back, baring the crown of his forehead before he gently raked his nails over his scalp. “And a scoundrel,” he added as Thorfinn quivered and leaned his head into the touch. This spurred Canute on. Eagerly, he listened to the timber of Thorfinn’s voice as he emitted a soft hum against Canute's neck.

Raking his nails through Thorfinn's hair, he found the soft spot just below his ears. Canute touched him just as they had before in secret. 

The gesture made his intentions clear. Thorfinn moved his arm between their bodies and gripped Canute's hip tightly. A breathy sound escaped Canute, the touch making him hold his breath in anticipation. Thorfinn leaned into Canute's groin. The pressure bloomed and Canute could feel himself hardening. He tried to will it away as Thorfinn's nose nuzzled the underside of Canute's chin. 

“Don’t stop.” Thorfinn breathed, his voice cracking hoarsely.  
in that moment Canute saw no reason to hold back, fueled by a yearning to touch and be touched by Thorfinn he stroked his hands down Thorfinn’s neck in half circles. Gently, he raked his nails across his skin whilst watching Thorfinn's eyes flutter shut. Thorfinn gripped his hip tighter and Canute could feel Thorfinn's breathing increase against his neck. 

Thorfinn’s scent was musky and intermingled with thyme and the faint smell of horses and burnt wood. Canute sucked it in as he dipped down and pressed his lips to Thorfinn's. 

Thorfinn’s mouth was plump and coarse. Canute’s pulse quickened as he landed a few demure pecks against them. Thorfinn laid still and didn’t reciprocate. And for a lingering moment, the fear of going too far gripped Canute.

He was about to open his eyes when he felt a tongue lathe his lower lip. It was electrifying. Canute pressed urgently, sampling the sweet flavor of the honeyed water that yet lingered on Thorfinn’s lips. 

Thorfinn's breath quickened, Canute heard him groan as Thorfinn tried to turn towards him. To alleviate the pain, Canute pressed his cheek against Thorfinn’s and kept him still on his back as he gently rolled himself onto Thorfinn, straddling him. Arousal burned as he leaned against Thorfinn. Only a thin fabric separated them and Canute could feel Thorfinn's hardness. The realization was dizzying. 

Thorfinn's hand quickly traveled across Canute’s shirt before he tugged it roughly to pull Canute down for another kiss. The press was rough and clumsy. But Canute still roamed his hands feverishly down Thorfinn's chest. That is until their kiss broke abruptly.

“My ribs! Watch it.“ Thorfinn gasped and Canute retracted his hands as quickly as they had traveled. Embarrassed by his own eagerness he was about to withdraw, but Thorfinn gripped his wrist. 

“Stay. This is nothing.” Thorfinn demanded as he directed Canute’s hand southward. 

Canute’s hands felt clammy as he pulled on the loop of Thorfinn’s belt and started working on the buckle. Thorfinn’s breathing rang loudly in his ears. And when Canute finally tossed the obstructing belt of daggers aside, he could feel Thorfinn’s fervent approval against his skin as Thorfinn bit his neck. 

“What do you want me to do?” Canute breathed against Thorfinn’s temple. 

"J-Just do something," Thorfinn groaned, averting his gaze as his thighs tensed beneath him. Gently, Canute palmed Thorfinn’s clothed arousal and earned a deep moan from the warrior against his ear. 

Sweet mother Mary, the way Thorfinn’s hip bucked into his palm coupled with the shape of his hardened flesh left Canute reeling. He watched attentively as Thorfinn writhed beneath him. His usual scowl had given way to a pleading look. To appease his need, Canute lined Thorfinn’s clothed arousal up with his own before he eagerly ground them together. The gasping sound that escaped Thorfinn sent a harsh pulse southward while he craned his head against his shoulder, relishing in the sensation and scent. Before long they were both moving their hips in sync as Thorfinn gripped and tugged Canute’s tunic desperately.

“Let me- let me breathe Canute.” Thorfinn sputtered, and Canute sat up, slowing the rolling of his hips. 

“Does it hurt you? To breathe as I do this?” Canute whispered as he rolled his hips once more. Awkwardly, Thorfinn stifled a moan by biting his hand. 

Thorfinn’s vulnerability was like new land to Canute. His hands roamed the scars of Thorfinn's stomach. Through the string of Thorfinn's breeches, his flushed arousal peeked slightly. Canute playfully let his thumb brush close to the tip. Thorfinn sucked in a sharp breath in anticipation.

“You’re a bastard,” Thorfinn hissed as he rose his hips and grabbed a fistful of Canute’s tunic. “You’re only pulling this because I am wounded, once I heal I’ll-“ Thorfinn’s voice broke the second Canute pressed his thumb against his tip.

“You’ll do what?” Canute demanded, his eyes now honing in on every quiver and movement of Thorfinn’s lips. 

“I’ll- I’ll-“Thorfinn spat, scrunching up his nose as he flushed. His bodyguard’s reaction felt like a sweet victory to Canute. The prince half wondered if this was what it felt like when an enemy finally yielded in battle. Whatever it was, Thorfinn’s embarrassment left him feeling powerful as he trailed the edges of a scar. It was curious how the edges of them remained white as the rest of Thorfinn’s skin grew red hot from shame. He wanted to see more before rolling his hips.

Thorfinn released Canute’s tunic before sliding his hand up and flicking a clothed nipple. He pressed a nail and Canute jerked at the foreign sensation. 

“I’ll fuck you,” Thorfinn hissed as he continued to toy with Canute.

“You’re being insolent.” Canute gasped, yet the thrill of Thorfinn’s words provoked his hips to rut against Thorfinn with such a fervor that the sheepskin rolled off his back. 

Canute’s hips stilled as he hiked up his own tunic for Thorfinn. The action felt shameful. As if he was a wanton maiden lifting her skirts. But Canute's mind didn't linger on that for long. Thorfinn's fingers were quick to tease his stomach and hipbones. The calloused fingers made his cock throb. In a pleading motion, he bucked up his hips forward for Thorfinn. 

“You’re slow, Thorfinn.” He moaned, and Thorfinn let out a long huff as he tugged on the string of his pants. 

“Shut it, prince, I only have one hand for this.”

“You defeated Thorkell in a duel, yet you cannot best a bit of string?” Canute teased, and he watched as Thorfinn’s face darkened. For some wicked reason, Thorfinn’s wild stare thrilled him. 

Thorfinn yanked the front of his pants down. He could scarcely gather his senses before Thorfinn pressed his thumb harshly on the frenulum. It throbbed in the tight grip and Canute whined desperately. 

“Stuff the tunic in your mouth.” 

His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest as he stuffed his mouth with the hem of his tunic. Thorfinn watched him intensely before shifting a little so that he could see the whiteness of Canute's bared skin.

“Good.” he breathed, and Canute cried out in a muffled moan as Thorfinn’s stroked him fully. The sensation of another hand on him that wasn’t his own stunned him. Canute shook and sucked in shallow breaths through his nose. And through his half-lidded eyes, he could just barely make out Thorfinn’s focused gaze on him. The position humiliating, effeminate even, it broke every taboo for a Norseman. Yet Thorfinn’s undivided attention left his thighs trembling against his bodyguard’s pelvis. Canute enjoyed it.

“Move your hips, Canute.” Thorfinn said in a stern voice.  
Thorfinn shouldn’t be the one calling the shots, but the temptation to roll his hips into Thorfinn’s deliciously calloused hand lured him. Canute bit the fabric before grinding his hips up against Thorfinn. “Yes, like that.” Thorfinn shuddered, “F-fuck.” 

Canute grabbed hold of Thorfinn’s slender hips and continued his thrusts into Thorfinn’s palm, making sure to cause enough friction for Thorfinn’s own arousal. His head hung limply to the side as he watched Thorfinn’s face contort into pleasure through lidded eyes. Thorfinn looked as if he were in paradise as his face twisted in pleasurable bliss. He writhed against Canute and seeing Thorfinn so unwound sent him closer to the edge. 

It didn’t take many strokes before Canute reached his climax. He emitted a muffled, hitched moan into the gag as his cum dripped out onto Thorfinn’s stomach and hand. Cum smeared as one last glob dribbled from Canute's waning tip.

His eyes were still knitted together when he felt a pair of warm fingers slide across his jaw. He leaned into the touch until Canute felt the fingers grab at the tunic in his mouth. The end of his tunic unraveled itself as it fell out of his mouth and clung onto his midsection with a wet slap.

Thorfinn gently parted the bangs that stuck to his forehead and ran a hand through the rest of his hair. The tent’s mild smell of thyme was now intermingled with the smell of something else, something different and humid Canute thought as he tried to gather his senses. 

“Canute,” Thorfinn whispered as he tugged on a handful of his hair, not too hard, but not gentle enough for it to be comfortable. Softly, Canute raked his pelvis across Thorfinn’s as he leaned down. Thorfinn’s lips pursed into a pout and he tugged once again. 

Canute wetted his lips before dipping down to kiss Thorfinn. An arm wrapped around Canute's neck. His lips felt raw from the linen, but Thorfinn’s bruised lips were plump and wet and felt cool as they kissed him clumsily. 

Content, Canute sighed into the kiss. For a fleeting moment, he allowed his hands to brush through Thorfinn’s mop of hair as he lazily rocked his hips over the hard flesh that pressed against his inner thigh. When he broke the kiss Thorfinn’s eyes were still closed, “I suppose I should reward you.” Canute whispered. He rested his forehead against Thorfinn’s.

Thorfinn’s eyes slid open with interest, and he craned his head back into Canute’s hands, exposing his jawline.

Canute traced a path from Thorfinn’s brow to his soft jaw with the tip of his nose. He steadied himself on the furs on each side of Thorfinn as he rose his hips and moved back on his bodyguard. His Tunic sliding over his form as he moved further back until his breath ghosted along Thorfinn’s collarbone. 

“Spread your legs, Thorfinn.” For once there was no retort nor quip from Thorfinn as the latter spread his legs willingly. 

The musky scent from Thorfinn’s skin beckoned Canute, he licked a trail from his collarbone and onwards from one nipple to the other, making sure to barely graze the flesh with his tongue. Impatient, Canute moved his legs between Thorfinn’s own trembling ones and continued downwards.

When he got to his breeches Canute peeked down to look, and the sight left his palms clammy. The lacing of Thorfinn’s trousers were parted in the middle, and in the gap was the flushed prick pressing firmly against the crisscross of the leather string. Thorfinn was slightly girthier than him, the flesh the same color as his lips. Beads of precum had begun to form and Canute swiped it around the tip roughly with his tongue, earning an audible shudder from Thorfinn as he raked his tongue across the laced penis. Thorfinn bucked his hips forward into Canute’s lips, making the leather dig into his own skin.

He undid Thorfinn’s lacing yet ran only one finger over the warm tip to prompt a reaction. Canute felt the corners of his mouth tug at Thorfinn’s pout. “Canute-” Thorfinn hissed as his thighs quivered on each side of his head. Oh, he was aware of how cruel it was to linger like this. But a small part of him saw this as retribution for Thorfinn leaving him behind with Willibald and Bjorn, even though he knew if Thorfinn hadn’t done so Askeladd probably wouldn’t be alive by now.

Canute lingered, watching as the leather marks on Thorfinn’s arousal grew from pale to dark. He licked his lips.

Then came the scent. It didn’t repulse him nor was it overpowering but it made his heart race.

“Hold back my hair, Thorfinn.”

Thorfinn’s hand was quick to gather his locks in a firm grip. The second he did Canute experimentally dipped down and wrapped his lips around the beading tip. He felt it pulse against his tongue as he dipped further down, his eyes never leaving Thorfinn as the latter whipped his head back into the furs in a muffled grunt.

“Keep moving,” Thorfinn sputtered, and Canute felt Thorfinn twist his hair in his hand as he slowly descended to the base. The grip wasn’t rough. Canute could’ve sworn Thorfinn almost stroked his scalp, but he had little time to linger on that as Thorfinn sputtered something incomprehensible the moment his lips made contact with the coarse hair at the base. Canute could see the goosebumps spreading across his bodyguard’s hipbones, his throat tightened around the taut flesh and Thorfinn emitted a soft ‘oh’. The unfamiliar soft sound from Thorfinn rung in his ears and Canute felt a dull pulse run through his own spent cock.

Transfixed Canute continued to watch him as he slowly began bobbing his head. Seeing Thorfinn spread out so vulnerable beneath him, eyes almost… pleading was something he hadn’t expected himself to enjoy this much. Thorfinn probably noticed as well, for the shorter boy scrunched up his nose and Canute felt him buck his hips into his mouth as Canute descended, causing him to gag. Thorfinn was being impatient, rushing to get his release. Couldn’t the brute just lay back and be pleased for one damn moment? Canute furrowed his brow and growled around Thorfinn, grabbing his ass to still him as he slid his lips off Thorfinn’s prick with a wet smack.

“Unless you aim to finish yourself off with your left hand, I suggest you let me decide the pace,” He whispered as he pressed his mouth against a vein and mouthed down the side of the weeping cock.

Thorfinn huffed, “Y-you,” he stuttered, Canute raised a brow. 

“You’ve done this before... haven’t you.”

The question came as a surprise. The idea caused heat to rise in his cheeks as he detached his mouth from Thorfinn. No, he was as inexperienced as could be. As a prince, he could’ve gotten a slave for such acts, but not the kind he would want. 

So instead Canute had cooped himself up in his study on foggy nights, his nose deep in forbidden books, his nails digging into the leather-bound hardcover as his eyes fixed on the passionate reactions from the male’s in them. They were always with a woman, but every crudely drawn illustration and description of their pleasure roused his pulse.

The guilt would always follow, it was dreadful really. The books, the slightest glance across the courtyard at a sweating and glistening warrior. The view of the young men that would gather near the well to wash on Saturdays, it all gave him more than enough to pray for forgiveness for on the following Sunday mass.

He sighed against Thorfinn’s lathed flesh; the latter’s thighs shivered on each side of his head from the cold air in the tent.  
“If I had, would it repulse you?” he asked gently, meeting his gaze. Thorfinn’s eyes widened slightly before fixing themselves elsewhere. Canute would’ve taken it as a yes if Thorfinn’s hand holding his hair didn’t nuzzle into his scalp a little.

“Would it bother you?” Canute pressed, craning his head back into Thorfinn’s touch, “If I had done this with another man?” 

“I don’t know.” Thorfinn breathed, but his eyes gave Canute a clear answer, and that answer caused his pulse to quicken more than he had thought it would. 

“Have you?” Thorfinn asked.

To toy with him, Canute rolled his tongue over the tip once more and took him to the root again, bobbing more fiercely than he had before. He felt clumsy, his chest fluttered, and the sweat returned to his clammy neck because someone desired him enough to feel a little jealous for the first time in his life. Strangely, knowing he was still wanted by someone on this earth warmed him. Thorfinn’s throaty moans suddenly became a backdrop to the intermingled feelings and thoughts that coursed through Canute.  
Thorfinn hiccupped and writhed into the furs, his toes dug into the hairs and his hand tugged fiercely on Canute’s hair as he breathed wordless pleas for release. And Canute indulged him, fondling his sack softly, pumping his wet shaft beneath his mouth until the smaller male’s hips arched and quivered. 

The flavor of Thorfinn’s essence was foul, it was as if he had stuffed his mouth with the scrapings from the bottom of a barrel of salted meat. But Canute had no choice, there was nowhere to spit, so he swallowed around Thorfinn as his prick grew soft in his mouth. 

Thorfinn shuddered and untensed around him from the overstimulation by the time Canute took him out of his mouth, “Could you.. h-” Thorfinn whispered. Canute, nodded and helped him get his pants back on and tied the lacing back in place. He felt Thorfinn release his hair then, and a veil of calm settled over Canute as he was left sitting there wiping his chin. Thorfinn’s left hand lingered awkwardly In the fur as well and suddenly it dawned on Canute how absurd their actions had been as he blinked back the exhaustion that pressed behind his eyes.  
He fingered the sheepskin that had rolled off his back and draped it over them as he laid himself next to Thorfinn, the other boy pressed into him, and Canute allowed himself to emit a small hum when he felt Thorfinn lazily peck his neck.  
“I haven’t,” he admitted, nuzzling his nose into Thorfinn’s temple.  
Thorfinn’s kisses trailed upwards, he breathed a small “huh?” against Canute’s jaw. And the latter, embarrassed that he was about to repeat his words again wrapped his arms around his bodyguard’s neck.

“I haven’t been with anyone before.”  
Canute could’ve sworn Thorfinn was smirking against his skin.

“..ah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp I finally finished this, heh. It's my first smutfic.   
> I researched a bunch for this. Back in the 11th-century vinegar, alcohol and honey was often used against inflammation. Peasants would use thyme to scent the water they washed themselves in as well. Anyways, I've gone absolutely feral over these Viking boys, please join me in writing for this tragic pair.


End file.
